


The Prince's Advisor

by LaLionne (otayuriistheliteralbest)



Series: Voltron Bingo Works [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alforan - Freeform, Childhood Friends, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Pre-War, childhood enemies to friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 06:49:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16213682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otayuriistheliteralbest/pseuds/LaLionne
Summary: Coran, only ten years of age, stood board-straight, his hands at his sides as he bowed low to his monarchs and their son. The Wimbleton Smythes had served the royal family as advisors for thousands of years, beginning their training from a young age so that they may always know and understand the importance of their place in the universe.---Coran and Alfor meet as children, getting off on the wrong foot. They grow together over time, learning to become friends and fall for one another.





	The Prince's Advisor

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by more people than I can remember. Love you!! Note: I HC that Alteans don't understand the concept of monogamy and all have poly relationships. :)

“Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, I would have the honour of introducing you to his royal highness, Crown Prince Alfor of Altea.”

Coran’s father stood to the left of the thrones where the king and queen of Altea sat upright and looking resplendent in their white and blue over robes picked out in silver embroidery that was reminiscent of the stars in the night sky. Their son, Alfor, sat in a smaller throne a step down the dias. Where his parents wore their power like a cloak to accent their formal clothing, Alfor slouched in his throne, one elbow on the arm rest and pillowing his cheek in his hand. His dark blue overcoat crumpled in places, and a stain from his morning’s breakfast stood out on one white sleeve that peeked out from the edge of his overcoat.

Coran, only ten years of age, stood board-straight, his hands at his sides as he bowed low to his monarchs and their son. The Wimbleton Smythes had served the royal family as advisors for thousands of years, beginning their training from a young age so that they may always know and understand the importance of their place in the universe.

“It is an honour and a privilege to serve their Majesties and his Highness,” Coran’s small voice piped up. He glanced up to his father, who gave him an approving nod. Coran beamed and looked back down to the ground in front of him again.

“No need to stand on such formalities, young Coran,” Queen Aevys said. “Please rise.”

Coran straightened from his bow and looked over to the boy prince who would one day become his charge. Prince Alfor was pouting now, his arms crossed over one another. A flicker of worry went through Coran’s small frame, and he wondered at the task that had been set for him.

“You boys run along now and play. Stay within the castle walls, mind,” King Ellystar commanded.

Prince Alfor jumped up at the words and ran past Coran to the throne room doors. Coran gave the royal couple a quick bow and ran after Alfor, who shoved him the moment he made it out of the doors. He’d been hiding behind the leaves waiting for him.

“Leave me alone, I don’t want a babysitter,” Prince Alfor said.

Coran straightened his clothes and braced himself. “I’m not a babysitter, I’m too young for that.”

“Yeah, well, no one asked for you to follow me around,” the Prince said peevishly, hands on his hips.

Coran snorted. “Actually, your royal parents requested it and my father agreed.”  
  
“Whatever,” Prince Alfor said, rolling his eyes. “Just stay away from me, okay? I don’t want you around, I don’t want anything to do with you.”

\--- 

Coran stuck to Prince Alfor like a burr, never interacting with him or talking to him, but simply inhabiting the same space, playing with his own toys on his own in the courtyard, or reading a book in the library when Alfor went for his own studies.

They took lessons together from Coran’s father, where they discussed everything from space travel and other cultures, to Altea’s agriculture and politics. Altea was one of the major players in the galaxy, and they therefore must be informed on all matters, no matter how distant the planet.

The boys slowly started to drift together naturally. Prince Alfor noticed that Coran was engaged and interested in the same stories as him, and he began to hide in more complicated, difficult-to-reach places just to see what Coran would do. Coran was very good at finding Alfor’s hiding places.

They drifted together, as boys with few others their age do. At seventeen, they were closer than any two friends could be, and their animosity of the past was all but forgotten as they fell in love. They were swimming in the lake just outside the castle walls one day, wrestling in the water, when a processional appeared, winding its way up the Royal Boulevard to the gates of the castle.

Alfor and Coran stopped grappling, their arms still around one another, when they saw the visitors and looked at one another. 

“Were we expecting visitors?” Alfor asked Coran.

“Not that I am aware of,” he replied. He gave Alfor a quick squeeze and a peck on the cheek and released him. “We better get dressed and head up to the castle. I’m sure your father will want us there.”

They shot over to the shoreline. The boys laughed and shoved at one another as they threw on their clothing and raced up the causeway to the castle.

Alfor and Coran were panting by the time they made it inside the gates, and the processional had long since passed through to the Grand Hall. Horses and Altean soldiers in uniforms they did not recognize set up makeshift camps just inside the outer wall. They eyed each other nervously. What was going on?

The boys didn’t bother to go to their rooms to change into more suitable court clothing. Alfor took sure steps toward the closed double doors of the Grand Hall. The guards, seeing their prince, stepped forward and opened both doors to let him pass. Coran glanced at them, but the man and woman at the doors didn’t seem nervous. His mind started to whir as they made their way down the carpeted hall.

“Father, mother, what is going on? Coran and I saw a processio--” Alfor cut himself off and stopped short, causing Coran to bump into his back.

Before the dais stood one of the most beautiful Altean women Coran had ever seen. Her hair fell in long purple-white waves down her back. Her dress was what caught Coran’s eye: the bodice a deep shade of pink over a lighter pink kirtle. _Pink_. The color of mourning.

Coran could see the pinched, disapproving look in the King’s eyes at their damp clothing. He stood straight and slicked back his water-drenched hair. He nervously ran his finger and thumb over his attempts at growing a moustache--they were little more than specks of red that Alfor teased him incessantly over--and cleared his throat.

“Princess Melenor,” the King said. “I would like to introduce you to our son, the Crown Prince Alfor, and his companion, Coran.”

He turned his steady gaze to the two boys. “There is a matter of unrest on her planet of Pollux, and at my cousin the King’s request, the Princess shall be joining our household until matters are resolved.”

Alfor bowed to the Princess, one fist clenched next to his heart in respect. “It will be an honor to have you amongst us, Princess.”

\---

That night, Alfor and Coran lay in bed, curled up with one another.

“What do you think happened to Princess Melenor?” Alfor asked. He twirled the curl in Coran’s red fringe with one finger as he thought. “I’m sure that you noticed as well as I her mourning clothes.”

Coran hummed in thought, kissing whatever skin he could reach. “I know that our history with Pollux has never been great. The fact that she was brought here, to a planet Pollux has warred with for ages, has to mean something.” He reached out and pulled Alfor’s body closer to his. “My guess would be that your fathers are looking to unite our two planets. You’re both about the age to marry, and I don’t know about Princess Melenor, but you don’t have a spouse yet, so if you were to marry her, she would be the Queen of Altea.”

“You don’t want to marry me, Coran?” Alfor asked, curious. “We’ve been together since we were boys.”

Coran thought for a moment. “No, I don’t. I’ll stay with you always, of course, but an alliance would be important, especially one with Pollux. Besides, it isn’t as if we couldn’t stay together. I’m sure that, being Altean in origin, the people of Pollux share in our customs. I doubt that the Princess Melenor would fault you for our relationship.”

Alfor tugged Coran up and kissed him soundly. “I thought you would say as much. Ever the practical one, my gorgeous man.”

Coran smiled and pressed his forehead against Alfor’s. “You know that I will always love you." 

“And I you.”


End file.
